Away
by Riikani
Summary: "Think of her still the same way, I say; She is not dead, she is just away." An old man on the death of his wife.


_I just came home from a rather unexpected funeral. If there is one person sobbing on a stranger's funeral, it'll be me, so if you need some atmospheric sobbing…yeah. Either way, I was writing a rather cute one-shot, but then this came in; there you have it._

_Tissues? Yup. Ownership, nope!_

* * *

It was unrealistic, and lonely. That was the only thing that Drew could think seated in front of a whole mass of people that were there to support him and his family. He had never thought you could be alone in a crowd, but it was exactly that.

Lonely.

His children on both sides on him; his daughter silently crying next to her husband, his son with a solemn look on his face next to his wife. Beside them Drew knew that his grand-children were next to them.

But his whole life, May had been next to him; instead of in front of him, sided by the wood of a coffin. He wondered whether she was warm enough, but then stopped himself. No, she wouldn't be cold, she was dead!

Dead; such a finality.

He couldn't cry, there was something in him that was relieved. Not for himself; he didn't know how he would continue on his own. But May had been in such pain, not being able to open her house for others anymore hurt even more. That her struggle was over, was a comfort.

A bitter comfort no matter what.

His two oldest grand-children were up on the stand, the girl, young woman he corrected even if he all too much remembered having a small version of her on his lap, was telling about his wife. Her brother stood next to her for support.

"Do you have enough? Do you want a cookie? A cake?" she said, her voice shaking. And Drew almost laughed, yes that was his wife. She loved eating, that much was true, but even more so, she wanted to take care of others, no-one left their house hungry.

It felt not real. For a moment he wanted to believe this was all a nightmare. His wife wasn't being laid to rest, he wasn't at a funeral, he didn't feel his daughter shaking next to him.

And his son went up on the stand, having more stories when they were younger, when his May had been taking care of everyone because she was that kind of a person. How much she loved her Pokémon, sometimes even caring about them more than humans.

It was like listening to another person's life. It wasn't possible they were talking about his love as if she was gone now. Drew felt as if he couldn't breathe!

They played songs of their favorite singer, and it wasn't hard to imagine May gently swaying her head on the melody of the music, her grey hair framing her face. Just like she had done when she was young, when she wasn't in pain.

It happened too soon, and Drew knew he was selfish for wishing she hadn't left him. She was rushed to the hospital on Friday, and on Sunday she was gone, just like that.

His son gently nudged him up, and he was faintly aware that he was supposed to lay a last saying on her coffin. And he didn't think it was fair! A lifetime wasn't enough to tell her all he wanted to say.

He struggled onto the platform, leaning heavily on his son's arm, and suddenly he didn't want to be anywhere near that coffin. He didn't want to be anywhere near the place where his love was too far for him to reach: how was he supposed to say goodbye to someone he had been willing to give the sun and the moon to if she had asked it.

His son gently put the lint on which the saying was written in his hand: "_Sleep well my light that lit up my world,"_ He couldn't remember ever having said it. Had he? He would never speak of his love in past tense; how was it that she was gone?!

Putting down the white strap of linen, he sat down again, and watched his children and grandchildren do the same strange ceremonial thing that he had done.

He faintly noticed the speaker say that people were now allowed to pass his wife by to say their last goodbye's from the last row to the front and that they as family were the last to leave the hall.

Drew wasn't sure he felt glad when he saw so many people pass by, showing they cared for his wife or betrayed. Some people were muttering and he saw their lips move quietly, He didn't want them to say their last goodbye's damnit! Don't treat her as if she is already in the past now!

How could people think of her like that, like she was gone already?! How was he supposed to act if he didn't have the one he shared his whole life with? Was he, like the steady flow of people, supposed to walk up to that coffin; say: "I love you," for just one more time and then move on?

The last of the people thinned out, and only he and his children were left. He heard people behind the closed doors that led to the reception area talk and laugh and he couldn't understand how: why was their grief so short-lived while to him they could have ripped out his heart and he probably would have felt it less.

The only sound still in the hall was made by his granddaughter still sniffling, and he felt his children grasp for his hands and he felt a wave of gratefulness for them and clenched his own wrinkling hands around theirs.

He barely heard them say they should join the rest of the crowd, to give them the chance to give their condolences and Drew nodded barely registering it. He stood up and walked to the coffin instead.

Leaving this building, Drew knew he was going to be separated completely from May, and there was nothing to be done about it.

"Why did you leave me alone, May?" he sighed to the wooden board of the last resting place of his wife. "I don't know how I am going to do this without you." He glanced back at his family, slowing retreating to the other area to talk to the people that came. Turning back to the coffin he pressed his lips against it, "Rest well, my love," he said.

Then he turned towards his two children, waiting for him near the door. He put foot after slow foot, for the first time relishing in the fact how old they had become together.

And as the doors fell closed behind him, forever locking the entrance towards his wife, he released a sigh. He would join her soon enough. But for now he'd thank the people that had shown their respect for coming.

* * *

_I cannot say and I will not say  
That she is dead, she is just away.  
With a cheery smile and a wave of hand  
She has wandered into an unknown land;  
And left us dreaming how very fair  
Its needs must be, since she lingers there._

_And you-oh you, who the wildest yearn  
From the old-time step and the glad return-  
Think of her faring on, as dear  
In the love of there, as the love of here  
Think of her still the same way, I say;  
She is not dead, she is just away._

_**James Whitcomb Riley (Away)**_

* * *

_There you have it. I ain't as happy with it as I could have been but….oh well. I will now continue my cute one-shot which is better thought out. I'll have you know that most of these happenings are what I have seen and heard today, but I cannot imagine the thoughts of the old man truly._

_Review? :)_


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